That was the thing about running a shop. Every now and then a customer managed to push the right buttons and my business sense, shaky at the best of times, went up in smoke.
I swiped her platinum AmEx through the machine and slid the receipt across the counter for her signature.
“Would you like me to wrap it for you?” I asked while Lynette and Janice kept the other customers amused.
“No, thanks,” she said, pirouetting in front of the cheval mirror in the corner. “I’ll wear it.”
Lynette popped back in. “Vonnie texted me,” she said to Suzanne. “Your car’s unlocked and the Inn is open for business.”
Suzanne flashed us a conspiratorial grin. “My boyfriend always keeps me waiting. It wouldn’t hurt him to do a little waiting himself.”
But she didn’t keep him waiting long. She signed her receipt, made a few polite noises, then hurried back out into the darkness.
“I’d give anything to see the boyfriend,” one of the Pennsylvania sisters said after the door clicked shut behind Suzanne Marsden. “I’ll bet we’re talking major hottie.”
“Johnny Depp hot or George Clooney hot?” the schoolteacher from New Jersey asked, and everyone laughed.
The rocket scientist gave out a cross between a snicker and a snort. “That woman has future trophy wife written all over her. Odds are he’s old, wrinkled, and rich.”
“Maybe she loves him,” I said then immediately wished I’d kept my big mouth shut.
Janice and Lynette exchanged glances and I didn’t need extrasensory powers to know exactly what they were thinking. I shot them my best “don’t you dare” warning look. One thing I didn’t need was another lecture on love from Sugar Maple’s two most dangerous matchmakers.
Blocking lace seemed a little anticlimactic to me after Suzanne’s mini-drama. I was seriously tempted to excuse myself for a minute then race up the street so I could peek through the front window of the Inn and eyeball the guy she was meeting, but that wasn’t how Sticks & Strings had maintained its ranking as the number one knit shop in New England two years running.
So I stayed put, but that didn’t mean I was happy about it.
It was a little before ten by the time everyone exchanged names and phone numbers and e-mail addresses. I handed out goodie bags of knitting gadgets and yarn samples and smiled at the oohs and ahhs of appreciation. Welcome to the dark side, ladies. Before long they would need an extra room to house their stash.
I let out a loud sigh of relief as I sank into one of the over-stuffed chairs near the Ashford wheels. “I actually broke into a sweat blocking that shawl.” I flapped the hem of my T-shirt for emphasis.
Janice rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to get any sympathy from me. Try giving a full body wax to an overweight eighty-five-year-old man with more wrinkles than a shar-pei. Now that’s a workout.”
Too much information. What went on behind the closed doors of Cut & Curl was none of my business.
“Seriously. I thought that shawl was going to get the better of me.”
“Our visitor is the one who got the better of you,” Lynette said. “You barely recouped the cost of the yarn.”
Lynette was always trying to give me business advice, and I was always doing my best to ignore her. “I thought we had a great group tonight. Definitely better than the carload of mystery writers who drove in for the finishing workshop last month. Now that was a big mistake.”
Leave it to mystery writers to wonder why the Inn flashed a NO OCCUPANCY sign but didn’t have any visitors.
“I’m talking about the shawl. She practically stole it from you.” Lynette could be like a dog with a stack of short ribs.
“Don’t exaggerate.”
“You must have spent twice that on yarn.”
“I didn’t spend anything. That was hand-spun from my mother’s stash.” When my mother died, one of the things she left me was a basket of roving that remained full to overflowing no matter how many hours I spent at my wheel, and another was a love of all things fiber.
“Good gods,” Lynette shrieked. “It’s worse than I thought.”
“I’m not crazy,” I said, slightly annoyed. “Lilith checks the roving twice a year to make sure it’s free from any traveling spells.”
Lynette was mollified, but just barely. “You really should drive down to Brattleboro and take a class in small business management,” she went on. “Cyrus said it’s the best money we ever spent.”
Lynette and Cyrus were owners/operators of the Sugar Maple Arts Playhouse at the corner of Carrier Court and Willard Grove. Cyrus was one of the SMAP’s favorite performers, which, considering the fact that he was a shapeshifter, made casting a snap. Lynette and their daughters Vonnie and Iphigenia were also shapeshifters and had been known to round out Cyrus’s repertory company on more than one occasion. Their sons, the unfortunately named Gilbert and Sullivan were occasionally pressed into service too, but Gil and Sully were quickly reaching the age where it would take cash to turn them into orphaned pirates.
“So you’ll think about it?” Lynette pressed. “If you sign up before the end of the year, Cyrus gets a fifty-dollar rebate.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said, “but it’s pretty hard to get away these days.”
“You don’t want to get away,” Janice said as she rinsed out the teapot.
“That’s right,” Lynette observed as she swept crumbs off the worktable and tossed them into the trash. “You’re all about the work lately.”
“It would do you good to take a little trip.” Janice reached for the coffeepot. “I can’t remember the last time you went away for a night or two.”
“I can,” Lynette said as she fluffed up the pillows on the leather sofa near the fireplace. “It was when she was seeing that lawyer from New Hampshire.”
Janice frowned. “That has to be--what? Four, five years ago?”
“Almost six,” I said, “and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You can’t possibly still blame us for that.”
“Putting a spell on our car wasn’t very funny. We could have frozen to death up there in the woods.”
“We moved the relationship along,” Lynette broke in. “You should be grateful.”
“Lynnie’s right,” Janice said. “We saved you from making a terrible mistake.”
“Howard was handsome, smart, and independently wealthy. Where’s the mistake in that?”
“He was human,” Janice said. “It wouldn’t have worked.”
“I’m human,” I reminded her.
“Only half,” Lynette said. “Your mother was a sorceress.”
“Yes, she was, but we all know I take after my father.” I had his height, his hair, and his humanness. There wasn’t the slightest bit of magick about me and there never had been. I couldn’t see into the future or shapeshift or bend spoons with the power of my mind. I was as solid and earthbound as one of the maple trees in Willard Grove.
“Nothing good happens when magick meets human,” Janice went on. “Don’t tempt fate, honey. Stick with your own kind.”
What they meant was, “Your mother fell in love with a human and see what happened to her.”
I was six years old when my parents died in a car crash not far from the Toothaker Bridge. The car skidded on black ice and slammed into a towering maple tree. My human father had been killed instantly. My sorceress mother lingered for two days while Sorcha and Lilith and all the people who loved her did everything in their power to convince her to stay, but in the end Guinevere chose to leave this world to be with the only man she would ever love.
My memories of that time were all in soft focus. Mostly I remember Sorcha, who had opened up her life and her home to me and made me her own.
Sometimes I hated my mother for making that choice. What kind of woman would choose to leave her daughter alone in the world? Depending on the time of day and how much wine I’d consumed, I either found her decision achingly romantic or the act of a sup
remely selfish woman.
“You’re not listening,” I said to my friends. “I don’t have magick and I probably never will.”
“You never know what might happen,” Janice said. “You always were a late bloomer. You were the last in your class to start wearing a bra.”
I was also the last in my class to score a date to the senior prom, something that still stings even now, thirteen years later. If it hadn’t been for my pal Gunnar, I wouldn’t have gone at all. “And your point is?”
Lynette leaned forward, all dark-eyed intensity. “My mother told me that your mother didn’t come into her full powers until she fell in love.”
“But she had some powers before she met my father,” I reminded my friends. “I remember the stories. Why can’t you both accept the fact that I’m never going to be more than I am right now?”
They exchanged another one of those knowing glances that reminded me of the housewives of Wisteria Lane.
“No matchmaking,” I said, barely stifling a yawn. “Absolutely, positively not. I am way too old for matchmaking.” Okay, so I was only thirty, but blind dates aged a girl in dog years.
“But he’s perfect for you.”
“That’s what you said about the last one.”
Janice had the decency to look a tiny bit sheepish. “I’ll admit Jacob was a mistake.”
“Jacob was a troll.”
Literally.
“Midge Stallworth forgot to mention that. We thought he was vampire like the rest of the family.”
“If the Universe wants me to find someone, they’ll send me a hot alpaca farmer who likes to spin.”
“Honey, you know we’re only thinking about your happiness.” Lynette patted my hand.
Maybe they were thinking about my happiness, but they were also thinking about the accident just before Christmas last year. A bus carrying a high school hockey team en route to Brattleboro blew a tire and careened down an embankment near the Sugar Maple town limits, killing the goalie and the coach.
Things like that weren’t supposed to happen here. Accidents, crime, illness, all the things that plagued every other town in America, didn’t happen here. Or at least they hadn’t up until recently.
Over three hundred years ago one of my sorcerer ancestors cast a protective charm over the town designed to shield Sugar Maple from harm for as long as one of her line walked the earth and--well, you guessed it. I’m the last descendant of Aerynn, and if you thought your family was on your case to marry and produce offspring, try having an entire town mixing potions, casting runes, and weaving spells designed to hook you up with Mr. Right.
“The accident was random chance,” I said, trying to ignore the chill racing up my spine as I remembered the crowd of reporters who had flooded the area. “The weather was terrible. It could have happened anywhere.”
“But it didn’t happen anywhere,” Janice said. “It happened here and it shouldn’t have.”
“Jan’s right,” Lynette said. “The spell is growing weaker with every year that passes. I can feel the difference.”
Janice nodded. “We all do.”
I didn’t but that was no surprise. I could only take them at their word on this, same as I did on everything else I couldn’t see or hear or understand.
“Cyrus met a charming selkie named Glenn at the Scottish Faire last week,” Lynette went on.
“She already dated a selkie,” Janice reminded her. “It wasn’t a good match.”
“I dated a selkie?” The parade of recent losers had mercifully blurred in my memory.
“You said his breath smelled like smoked salmon.”
I shuddered. “I’ll skip the selkies, thanks.”
“You get used to it,” Janice, who was married to a selkie, said. “Truth is, you’d skip them all if we let you.”
She was right about that.
“Just keep Saturday nights open,” Lynette said. “That’s all I’m asking.”
As far as I could tell, my Saturday nights were open from now until the next millennium. I nodded and stifled another yawn. “No trolls, no selkies,” I said. “And he has to be at least six feet tall before the magic kicks in.”
“Not a problem,” Janice said. “Tall is good.”
“Human might be nice for a change.”
They looked at me, then at each other, and burst into raucous laughter.
“Honey,” Lynette said as she patted my arm, “around here human might not be your best choice.”
I wasn’t usually prickly about their wariness about humans, but that night it got under my skin. It wasn’t like I actually thought Mr. Right was going to show up at Sticks & Strings one snowy winter day searching for the perfect ski sweater to wear on the slopes. But I did think love was possible. It had happened for my parents, hadn’t it? Maybe they hadn’t managed the happy ending part of the equation, but for a little while I saw what real magic was all about and I didn’t want to settle for anything less.
Now you know why I had five cats, one TiVo, and a stash of yarn I couldn’t knit my way through in six lifetimes.
I mean, what were the odds that the perfect man would not only show up in Sugar Maple, but also be okay with the fact that the town wasn’t the picture-postcard New England town our Chamber of Commerce would have you believe, but a village of vampires, werewolves, elves, faeries, and everything else your parents told you didn’t really exist?
Or that he would be okay with the fact that the woman he wanted to spend his life with had a few surprises lurking in her own gene pool?
Ten million to one sounded about right to me.
Besides, Sugar Maple was doing fine without my help. We had a thriving tourist trade and zero crime. What other town could make that claim? It seemed to me that Aerynn’s protective blessing was still getting the job done even if we had had a few close calls over the last year or two.
The blessing’s strength might be weakening, but we still had time to figure this out before it vanished altogether. All we needed was a frothy little protective charm to cover us until I either found the man of my dreams or came up with a Plan B.
And maybe things would have worked out that way if, just a few hours after she left my shop, Suzanne Marsden hadn’t been murdered.
* * *
End of Chapter 1
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Did you love Enchanted: The Wedding Story? Then you should read Entangled: The Homecoming by Barbara Bretton!
When two hikers go missing during a snowstorm, Sugar Maple is suddenly thrust into the spotlight. If Luke and his squad of magickal deputies can’t locate the hikers ASAP, Sugar Maple will be Ground Zero for every news organization in the country.
And it couldn’t be happening at a worse time. Rohesia and the Old World magicks are making the transition to the earthly dimension and it isn’t going smoothly. Hiding in plain sight had never been more dangerous.
Hungry news crews are poised to overrun Sugar Maple as the search for the missing hikers intensifies.
They’re looking for the next big story but little do they know the story they uncover just might be the biggest story of the century.
Read more at Barbara Bretton’s site.
Also by Barbara Bretton
Bachelor Fathers
Daddy's Girl
The Bride Came C.O.D.
Classic Romances
Shooting Star
Promises in the Night
Second Harmony
The Edge of Forever
Sail Away
Love Changes
The Sweetest of Debts
No Safe Place
Jersey Strong
The Day We Met
Jersey
Strong Romances
Once Around
Just Desserts
Just Like Heaven
Maybe This Time
Shelter Rock Cove
A Soft Place to Fall
The Idle Point, Maine Stories
At Last
The PAX Series
Playing for Time
A Fine Madness
All We Know of Heaven
Honeymoon Hotel
The Sugar Maple Chronicles
Enchanted: The Wedding Story (Coming Soon)
Entangled: The Homecoming (Coming Soon)
Standalone
Now and Forever - The Complete Crosse Harbor Time Travel Trilogy
Fire's Lady
Midnight Lover
The Reluctant Bride
Untamed Hearts - 3-Book Historical Collection
Watch for more at Barbara Bretton’s site.
About the Author
Barbara Bretton is the USA Today bestselling, award-winning author of more than 50 books. She currently has over ten million copies in print around the world. Her works have been translated into twelve languages in over twenty countries and she has received starred reviews from both Publishers Weekly and Booklist. One of her titles was recently chosen by Booklist for the 101 Best Romances of the Last Decade list. Many of her titles are also available in audio.
Barbara has been featured in articles in The New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal, Romantic Times, Cleveland Plain Dealer, Herald News, Home News, Somerset Gazette, among others, and has been interviewed by Independent Network News Television, appeared on the Susan Stamberg Show on NPR, and been featured in an interview with Charles Osgood of WCBS, among others.
Her awards include both Reviewer's Choice and Career Achievement Awards from Romantic Times; a RITA nomination from RWA, Gold and Silver certificates from Affaire de Coeur; the RWA Region 1 Golden Leaf; and several sales awards from Bookrak. Ms. Bretton was included in a recent edition of Contemporary Authors.
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